by Ria Cantrell
Celtic Blizzard
by
Ria Cantrell
Other Books by Ria Cantrell
Celtic Fury (January, 2013)
Celtic Tempest (May, 2013)
Celtic Spirit (March, 2014)
Knight Storm (October, 2014)
Morag’s Tears (May, 2015)
Celtic Peril (June, 2016)
My Wild Irish Knight (Coming Soon)
Celtic Blizzard
Copyright © 2017 by Ria Cantrell
All rights reserved.
Ebook Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to your favorite ebook store and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. All names and events are the creation of the author and are of a fictional nature. Any similarities are purely coincidental.
Cover Design by: Paul Crust
Dedication
So many people have supported me in this journey. I dedicate this book to my husband Paul, who believes in me and helps me live my dream. I also dedicate it to the memory of Amanda Albright, who helped me when I was first published. Such a gracious woman, gone too soon. Our loss is Heaven’s gain.
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Epilogue
Author’s Notes
Acknowledgements
About Ria Cantrell
Celtic Blizzard
Prologue:
Scottish Highlands – 1364
Jamie MacCollum had risen before the first light of the sun had warmed the earth. It had turned unbearably cold during the night and he was worried about the lambs. A night like this could take the life of the lambs and Jamie needed to check on them. He would do what he could to assure their warmth and safety. Throwing his cloak upon his wide shoulders, he trudged down the stairs of MacCollum keep and made his way out to the sheepfold. The bitter cold nearly took his breath away as he stepped out into the night air and the wintery wind sliced through his thick cloak like the blade of one of his broadswords. He looked up toward the light of the waning moon and he saw clouds shifting quickly in the night sky. Taking a sniff of the air until it seemed that ice crystals had formed inside his skull, Jamie knew he could smell snow. Aye, it would snow in the next few hours so he had to hasten to his task of securing the lambs.
Sometimes his brothers teased him about his uncanny sense of weather, but they knew to heed him when he sensed a great storm brewing. They also harassed him about his sense of duty to the likes of lambs and ewes, but Jamie never let it get the better of him. They would mock him good-naturedly and rib him about losing the strength of his sword arm to the carding of wool. Jamie knew better. As the wind shifted, Jamie felt something else settle in his bones. Danger! It was a palpable warning and he would not brush it off as just a chill from the cold. Nay, he could smell it as sure as he could smell the snow. Which would befall first, Jamie did not know but as the first born son of the Laird of the Clan, he knew to be prepared for both.
Chapter 1
Sinead MacDougal looked out of her New York apartment window. Frost had crusted upon the pane and she knew the temperature had dropped significantly during the night. The sun wouldn’t be up for another hour or so, but that was alright with Sinead. She bent down to tie the last of the laces of her sneakers and she twisted and stretched before heading out for her early morning run. Zipping up her hooded sweatshirt and grabbing a pair of gloves she kept by the door, Sinead took the elevator down to the street level of the building. She usually used the stairs to her 9th floor apartment after her run as a way to cool down but she did not like taking them before it was light out. Sure, they were well lit and all, but it always made her a little uneasy to have to dart through the dim parking garage below in order to get to the street. By the time she was done with her run, people would be starting their day and she would not feel so vulnerable. It wasn’t that she was a scaredy-cat but she was realistic. It was New York City, after all and even though she lived in a good part of town, threats of crime were always a possibility.
Sinead liked city living well enough, but sometimes she imagined living in the country with fresh air to fill her lungs as she jogged down quaint earthen paths without the threat of danger or smog for that matter. Early morning runs were the best because traffic was light and she didn’t have to worry about breathing in car exhaust while she ran. She had made it her habit to run every day since she was a teenager. It gave her a sense of power and purpose.
As the buzzer sounded in the lift signaling her floor, Sinead sprinted out of the doors and waved to the doorman who was sipping probably his third mug of coffee. Once she hit the pavement, she took a deep breath. The air was crisp and clean, despite being in the city and Sinead smiled. It was going to snow soon. She could almost smell it. Sinead loved it when it snowed in the city; especially when it was this close to Christmas.
Something about snow in New York City was what Christmas cards were made of. Doing a few more brief stretches and jogging in place for a moment, Sinead felt ready to take on the world and she was off running. Her hood fell back and her thick hair, which was tied in a ponytail, swung in rhythm to her stride. She could not hide the smile on her face. It felt good to push herself and to feel the cold upon her cheeks. Sinead sensed a crackle of energy in the air and she embraced the feeling of adventure. Something was about to happen, and she did not know what. Perhaps it was the spirit of Christmas making his way on the world. At any event, Sinead was excited at any new possibilities.
She chuckled to herself at the thought. New adventure, indeed. You are a librarian. The most exciting thing that happens is a new shipment of documents to review. Alright, that was not entirely true. She was a research analyst for The Metropolitan Museum and she was head of the department of antiquities, which sounded good, but really she was a book worm; a well-paid nerdy little book worm. She laughed again and shrugged. It suited her. When she was running, she imagined herself to be a warrior woman who could conquer the world. If only it were so.
She had been called a dreamer her entire life. Her parents were “well to do” dignitaries and they had spent much of Sinead’s childhood traveling abroad, leaving her mostly to be raised by an au pair. She had gone to fine schools and sometimes she was allowed to travel with her parents but mostly she was left to her own devices
. She had developed a deep love for books, literature and poetry and when she wasn’t out running, she was elbow deep in research or, her guilty pleasure, a juicy novel. She didn’t discern styles or genres. She loved reading everything from history to a good raunchy little romance.
As she rounded the corner that led her past the already festively decorated windows of one of the big department stores she paused, jogging in place to admire the work of the creative geniuses that made the fantastical realms of Christmas come to life. She loved this time of year most of all. Something about the magic of it all appealed to her sense of imagination and she could not help but smile, though perhaps with a touch of sadness. Sinead felt that her life was full. She had good friends and a job she loved but there was something missing. She did not want to admit that what was missing was someone to share things with, especially during Christmastime. With a sigh that sent a cloud of vapor into the crisp morning air, Sinead made the last leg of her early jog and aimed herself back toward the apartment building. The city was starting to wake up and people were already making their way to their respective jobs.
Sinead checked her watch and she figured she had plenty of time to catch a shower before her morning ride on the 7 subway to the Museum of Natural History. She jogged her way through the doors of her building and she motioned to George the doorman that she was taking the stairs. It was a ritual that they had started months ago when he would come out from behind his desk and offer to get the elevator for her. She liked George. He was always friendly and polite and he offered to carry her packages and groceries many times, which she knew was not part of his job description. As Sinead started to slow her heart rate down, she took the stairs two at a time, still pumped from her morning run. When she got to her landing, she gulped in deep breaths and used the railing to stretch out again before opening the doorway leading to her corridor.
A sudden dizziness came over her and she grabbed the banister to steady herself. It almost felt as if the landing had shifted beneath her feet. Maybe she had taken the stairs too quickly and hadn’t allowed herself the proper cool down. That rarely happened and she felt like she was in the best shape she had ever been in. She probably just needed a good strong cup of coffee, which she would grab on the way to the subway. When the momentary fog eased, Sinead shook it off and let herself into her apartment. She kicked off her runners and plucked her gloves from her fingers. She checked her pulse at the base of her neck and found it to be slowing normally as it did after a workout. She shrugged and said to herself, “Guess, I just pushed myself more than I thought.”
Feeling once again fine, Sinead stripped off her clothes and turned on the shower. She let the mirrors steam up before she got in and the hot water blissfully ran down her back. All melancholy musings were gone and she thought, “This is going to be a great day.”
She would start her day at the Museum of Natural History and then later on, she would go up town to the Cloisters. They had recently acquired some wonderful manuscripts dating back from the medieval era and part of Sinead’s job was to catalogue all of the items before they could be exhibited. She loved going to the Cloisters. It was a place where she could slip back in time for a while and feel the press of the Ancients around her with the many wonderful treasures that were housed there. Besides, it looked like a big castle and she loved wandering within the grounds of the site. There was a sweet spot that overlooked the Hudson River from high upon the parapet of the battlements of the castle and Sinead loved being able to view the world from that wonderful perch. If she got there with enough daylight hours available, she may just take her lunch out there to enjoy the beautiful vista. Just thinking about that prospect, gave Sinead the push she needed to finish her shower and get herself to work, even though the warmth of the waterfall upon her was very tempting to stay beneath for at least a few more minutes.
About forty minutes later, Sinead sat sipping her delicious hot coffee as she relaxed on the number 7 train quietly enjoying her ride towards the museum. Just being able to get a seat was a continued omen that the day was going to be awesome. She had dressed warmly in case the snow she sensed was somewhere in the very near future. She had packed her sneakers, because she certainly wanted to explore the grounds of the Cloisters when she could take a break. As the train switched tracks, the inevitable loss of power happened as first the lights flickered and then plunged the passengers into complete darkness. The commuters groaned collectively as they waited for the train to pitch forward, as it always did and for light to be returned to the car.
It seemed to be taking longer than normal and the lights sputtered and flashed as if they were trying to push the subway back to life, which caused a strobe effect within the car. For a slight moment, Sinead thought she saw the most surreal scene flash before her eyes. There in a field stood a warrior surrounded by men armed with swords. As the lights of the subway car powered on and the train lurched, Sinead rubbed her eyes and shook her head. What the hell had just happened? The woozy feeling had returned for the second time that morning and for a moment, she almost thought she was going to be sick. Jeez, I hope I’m not coming down with something. She removed one of her mittens and touched her cheek, thinking she would feel flushed, but instead, her face seemed almost unnaturally cool. She was glad she was sitting down and she forced herself to take another sip of the coffee, which was still steaming. That seemed to settle the momentary nausea that had washed upon her. If she didn’t know better, she might have thought she was pregnant. Of course, that wasn’t it. Hell, she hadn’t even dated anyone in the last nine months, let alone slept with anyone. To say she had had a bit of a dry spell was an understatement. Still, it was odd that she had those two episodes within the hour. With another sip of her coffee, the nausea completely abated and as the train roared forward, Sinead put it out of her mind and closed her eyes for the remaining minutes on her train ride, not even realizing she was going to doze off.
Chapter 2 – Scotland 1364
Jamie MacCollum stormed into the keep, not caring if there were people still asleep. He was madder than a polecat and he could not contain his ire. His brother Liam was snoring loudly as he dozed near the hearth of the great fireplace that sat at the end of the main hall. He had had a bit too much to drink the night before and he passed out near the warmth of the fire. Jamie strode toward him and nudged him with the toe of his boot. With a startled snort, Liam opened one eye and looked up into the murderous face of his oldest brother.
“Wh-what is it, Jamie? Ye’ look as if ye’ are about to kill someone.”
“The bloody feckin’ MacDougals! That’s what! They took to raidin’ and they got some of my pride ewes and lambs. I thought they had wandered off, but I found signs of the raid. Find our brothers. We are going to mete out MacCollum justice, I swear it.”
Liam rubbed his eyes. He wished he had not overindulged in his ale on the past night because when Jamie was of a mind, there would be no telling what would happen, especially when it came to his beloved sheep. Liam had been celebrating for he was about to marry his sweet lass in the next few weeks. The betrothal had been set and so he took a little too much drink on the past eve. He was now glad he hadn’t added a dram of his father’s private reserve to his misery for even now his head ached, just from the ale. Standing up and shaking off the stiffness in his limbs from sleeping upon the hearth of stone he tried to mollify his brother, even though he knew it was probably pointless.
“Look, Jamie, after my wedding, we can go a’raidin’ and gain back what the MacDougals took.”
“Yer’ weddin’ is still weeks away. I’m nay goin’ to wait for those blasted thieving bastards to slaughter my fold. Now are ye’ goin’ to aid me or no?”
“Well, I dunna’ wish to make Mairead a widow before I take her to my bed, Jamie.”
Jamie’s anger simmered and he thundered, “Fine, Shawn and Ruiri will do what ye’ are nay a man to do.”
“Jamie, I’m a man to help ye’, but I think we need to get our plans i
n place before we put ourselves in the thick of MacDougal territory.”
Jamie stormed off and called over his shoulder, “I’m goin’ to find Ruiri and Shawn.”
“Wait, I saw Ruiri ride off late last night. I have no idea where that brother of ours was going. Ye’ know Ruiri…off fighting some foe and righting some wrong, I suppose.”
Jamie nodded. Ruiri had been a changed man ever since his betrothed was murdered by the Campbell spawn. Since then, he had become an avenging angel of sorts and his wrath for righteousness had earned his brother the name, Highland Wolf. Jamie sighed. Thinking of Ruiri and his plight took the fight out of him somewhat. Ruiri lost part of his soul the day Caitlyn was killed, t’was true. Liam was right. They needed a plan. As the oldest of the MacCollum brothers, Jamie needed to use a cooler head. All of his brothers were hot headed at times and Jamie knew he needed to start thinking like a leader for eventually, even though he wanted no part of it, the lairdship of the clan would more than likely go to him. Och, Jamie could fight with the best of them, but his heart was in tending the fold, producing fine wools and working the land. He was more suited to the farming and raising of sheep than he was to the leading of the clan. Besides, his father Caleb was still hale and stalwart and there would be no need to think about taking his place for quite some time.
Clapping Liam across his shoulders, he said, “Alright. We should think this out I suppose. We’ll get Shawn to aid us though, because I swear, if one ringlet of wool is harmed by the MacDougal’s hand, there will be hell to pay.”
Liam did not doubt his brother’s words for a minute. He was like a man crazed when it came to the harming of his sheep. If Liam was not nursing a pounding ache in his skull, he would have chided his brother about his predicament, but as it were, Liam did not have the will for it this early in the morning. He also knew that even if he vowed to not get caught up in the fray, he was probably going to be riding right alongside of Jamie when it came down to it. Damn and blast, he hoped to hell that he would not be brought back to Mairead on a slab. Those MacDougals were without honor and they weren’t going to simply return their spoils to Jamie for the asking. Nay, a fight was certain, regardless of Jamie’s supposed agreement to think out some other plan.